


how to get away with dying

by menecio



Category: Marvel, Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Blanket Permission, DoraDeservedBetter2k19, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 13:26:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17746712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/menecio/pseuds/menecio
Summary: Humans call it playing possum.





	how to get away with dying

Humans call it playing possum. Agony isn’t sure what a possum is at first, but her host’s mind is quick to provide her with any sort of information it holds. Their bonding was quick and smooth, over in seconds, stable in minutes. Her host started retching in fear the moment Agony sank under her skin anyway, perhaps due to knowing what would happen if Agony rejected her, perhaps due to the whole situation she was in. It’s hard to tell for Agony at first. These creatures— _people, humans, Homo sapiens_ —have so much going on in their bodies, brains, minds. They’re so different from each other. It’s hard to adjust to each new host at first, even for a symbiote such as her, who excels in doing exactly that.

But yes, after some observation, Agony discovers that her host’s fear has many roots. How disappointing, to have such a fragile mind as a host. If they weren’t such a good match, Agony would make a meal out of her. She’s starved for real food, for stimuli, for the explosion of chemical reactions along her cells, for something more than the bland and stagnant nutrients the people behind the glass panels— _scientists, colleagues, monsters_ —kept feeding her through her vessels.

But the bond goes over without a hitch, and Agony isn’t so keen on losing such a perfectly serviceable if easily distressed host to her impatient appetites. She can put her baser needs on hold. She can use this host to get out of here, yes, this host who knows the lay of the land, the ins and outs of this place, the security passcodes and overrides. She can also use the things the host hasn’t noticed or cared to notice. Agony rifles through her host’s memories; she discovers patterns and repetitions and routines, she unlocks secrets and details and codes, she gathers all the information she needs and then some, and then she pulls back and purrs into her host’s consciousness.

**Dora.**

Her host jumps and whimpers. She hasn’t stopped trembling and crying since they bonded, since she bent over and emptied her stomach onto a trash bin. She tried talking to the people watching her from behind the glass at one point, begging them to let her go, but her sobs and pleas did nothing. She’s an asset now, no longer a colleague or a friend or an acquaintance.

Liquids of different densities and compositions wet Dora’s face and hands and clothes—tears and snot. But now her whimper takes on a confused edge. Curiosity, perhaps? Agony isn’t good at reading her host’s emotions yet, and she doubts she’ll ever care enough to bother learning.

But Agony can work with curiosity. It’s better than outright fear, at least for the time being.

She purrs again, soft and soothing like the kitten she saw in Dora’s childhood memories. She doesn’t want to overwhelm her host. She needs her awake and functional. A direct approach would probably backfire. Demands will do nothing for her. Agony rifles through Dora’s mind again, most of her memories warped with anxiety and guilt, only some bright spots here and there.

 **Your children, Dora,** Agony doesn’t quite say, more like projects, onto Dora’s mind. Speaking up again is probably not wise right now, so she’ll pretend to be Dora’s survival instinct for now. **We must go to them. We must leave this place.**

But her host has no idea how to leave. She’s certain that anything she can do is only useful if they get out of containment in the first place; she’s convinced they’re trapped. From both her host’s memories and her own experience trying to slip away, Agony has to admit that Dora isn’t just being a pathetic weakling: she is being a pathetic weakling who also has a bit of a point.

This is a toughie. They need to crack it. They need to _leave_. Agony can’t stay here. She can’t _stay_ here, jumping from host to host, growing weaker due to both the lack of proper nourishment and ill-fitting bonds until she just dies.

 **Escape,** she projects. **We have to escape, Dora.** That much is clear. **Let’s go.**

Dora isn’t listening. She’s driving herself into a frenzy. She knows she’s being watched, _they’re_ being watched, monitored, their every breath and pulse and blink recorded for future reference and examination. The only way they’re getting out is in a body bag.

Agony latches onto that thought. It sparks several other thoughts that are barely shaped like ideas at all, hardly even impressions. But Agony knows Dora’s mind just as well as her own, because Dora’s mind is their mind, and their mind is Agony’s mind, and so Agony tracks down those pale ghosts until they solidify into facts, knowledge, memories: Dora attends her great-uncle’s funeral when she’s six years old, people can be resuscitated sometimes, some animals and even humans can fake being dead—and this is where Agony’s interest clamps down and _pulls_. She can work with this. Dora can’t, but Agony can.

Dora’s trapped and scared, wired like prey.

Agony is not prey.

But she can play possum.

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this when the film came out and decided to post it now. It was originally meant to be part of a longer fic featuring Dora and Agony's (mis)adventures, but it's staying a one-shot for now.


End file.
